Thomas Heyrick

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On A Sunbeam

THOU beauteous offspring of a sire as fair;
With thy kind influence thou dost all things heat:
Thou gild'st the Heaven, the Sea, the Earth and Air,
And under massy rocks dost Gold beget.
Th'opaque dull Earth thou dost make fine,
Thou dost i'th'Moon and Planets shine;
And if Astronomy say true,
Our Earth to them doth seem a Planet too.

How unaccountable thy Journeys prove!
Thy swift course through the Universe doth fly
From lofty heights in distant Heavens above,
To all that at the lowly Center lie.
Thy Parent Sun once in a day
Through Heaven doth steer his well-beat way;
Thou of a swifter subtler breed
Dost every Moment his Day's Course exceed.

Thy common presence makes thee little priz'd,
Which if we once had lost, we'd dearly buy:
How would the Blind hug, what's by us despis'd!
How welcome wouldst thou in a Dungeon be!
Thrice-wretched those, in Mines are bred,
That from thy sight are buried,
When all the Stores, for which they try,
Neither is Use, nor Beauty, equal Thee.

Could there be found an Art to fix thee down,
And of condensed Rays a Gem to make,
'Twould be the brightest Luster of a Crown,
And an esteem invaluable take,
New Wars would the tir'd World molest
And new Ambition fire Men's breast,
More Battles fought for it, than e're
Before for Love, Empire, or Treasure were.

Thou'rt quickly born and dost quickly die:
Pity so fair a Birth to fate should fall!
Now here and now in abject Dust dost lie;
One Moment 'twixt thy Birth and Funeral.
Art thou, like Angels, only shown,
Then to our Grief for ever flown?
Tell me, Apollo, tell me where
The Sunbeams go, when they do disappear.

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